I walked into work with my usual peppy attitude and two boxes of donuts from The Sweet Shop, one of my favorite spots in the city. They were a little overpriced, but no one else served elderberry donuts with basil frosting or blackcurrant-jam-filled chocolate crullers. I felt particularly generous that morning—hence the two boxes of donuts—and it was worth it to see the excitement on my coworkers’ faces when I walked around handing them out. Feeling a little better, I took my seat and waited for the inevitable.
Sure enough, about two minutes later, Ronny came barreling out of his office, looking frazzled. Not that that was anything new. He always looked that way—like a fire alarm had woken him up in the middle of the night, and he’d gotten caught in a freak windstorm on his way out the door. Everything about him was always a little rumpled and askew and very, very anxious.
“Audrey! There you are,” he exclaimed, coming to a stop by my desk. “Can you come into my office, please?”
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled, licking the last vestiges of Irish cream filling off my fingertips. I knew Ronny well enough to know that even though he believed whatever was going on qualified as an emergency, it probably didn’t.
Preparing myself for his insecurities, I gathered my notepad and pen, as well as a donut for him, and followed Ronny into his office. As soon as he closed the door, he launched into a tirade.
“This is bad. This is really bad,” he babbled. “I don’t know what to do, and you’re my cousin, so I know you’ll be honest with me …”
“Ronny,” I said as I dropped my supplies in one of the nearby chairs and set the donut on his desk. I put my hands on his shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “Calm your tits. You know I can’t understand you when you ramble.”
It shut him up for a moment as I knew it would. If I caught him near the beginning of one of his spirals, I could usually cut him off at the pass.
“Now, take a deep breath,” I told him. “And then slowly let it out.”
Ronny did as I instructed, and I saw his shoulders relax as he exhaled.
I smiled. “Good. Now, from the top. What the hell are you talking about?”
This time, when Ronny spoke, it was slower, and I could understand him. “We lost Matrix Publishing to Patterson,” he moaned.
That came as no surprise. Jonas Rift had dodged and neglected to return our calls recently, and I’d had a sneaking suspicion he’d moved on to our competitor, after Matrix’s last book shot to the top of the bestseller list. It was a pattern I recognized, and I had warned Ronny about it the previous night as I watched him pace his apartment. I had sipped a glass of one of the shitty dry table reds he favored, laying it out for him, while he wore a hole in the Persian rug in his living room.
If Pace wasn’t willing to go out on a limb for our bigger clients and funnel a little extra money into wining and dining them or investing in bigger and better ad strategies, we would continue to lose them. In the age of do-it-yourself social media marketing, only the advertising agencies that were willing to try new things and go the extra mile would make it—agencies like Patterson.
“We knew this was going to happen,” I reminded him. “We prepared for the possibility they would walk. We offered them everything we could, and that’s all we could do. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I know, I know. It just feels like it. It’s as if the damned walls are closing in, Aud. I don’t know what to do with myself some days.”
There were times I wondered why Ronny hadn’t gone into acting. He certainly had a flair for the dramatic. “That’s just your anxiety talking. We’ve lost clients before, and we’ve always bounced back. It’s part of the business.”
We’d gone over this before. Many times. I felt as if I was doing a scene from a play rather than having a candid conversation. I knew the blocking; I knew my lines; I knew Ronny would demand to be center stage, while he bemoaned his fate and threatened to leave the business altogether. Ronny didn’t see me as a confidante, but rather as a two-bit player in the drama of his life—his never-ending one-act of persecution and victimization.
“Thanks,” Ronny said. “But that’s not why I’m worked up. I mean, that’s not the only reason.”
This was not part of the script. I dropped some of my defensive body language and unfolded my arms. “Everything okay?”
Ronny took a deep breath. “Well, it’s just … I was going to mention it, but …”
“Come on, Ronny.”
He took a shuddering breath. “Aaron and Devon Patterson are on their way here for a meeting.”
I blinked. I hadn’t met the Patterson brothers, but I had heard enough about them to understand why my cousin had worked himself up into such a frenzy, this time. Aaron Patterson had started his company right out of college on a shoestring budget and, within five years, it had become one of the top marketing firms in the city. Word had it he was an up-all-night, work-around-the-clock kind of guy. He had a reputation for womanizing, but he never got involved in anything messy enough to distract him from his one true love: his company. He was just erratic enough to be dangerous, just focused enough to be a real threat. Ever since Patterson had started gaining traction, Ronny had been doing everything in his power to keep our client base from leaving us for them—at a declining rate of success.
As far as I was aware, the meeting they had called—I assumed the Pattersons had called it, since Ronny was too angry at the idea of Aaron Patterson—would be the first time the Patterson brothers and Ronny had spoken directly. It didn’t sit well with me, but I knew I had to be strong for Ronny’s sake. At least they were meeting us here, on our turf.
“It’ll be fine,” I assured him. “You’ll meet with them, listen to what they have to say, and go from there. You can’t freak yourself out. If they see you’re nervous, it’ll only give them more power.”
Ronny looked at me with pleading eyes. “I need you to go into the meeting with me. Not just because you’re my assistant, but because I always feel stronger with you there.”
“Ronny-cakes,” I said, using my childhood nickname for him. It was mostly to tease him into fighting back, to coming to his senses, but there was affection in it, too. “You were doing just fine before I came along. I know you can handle this.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said. “I can do this. I can meet with them.”
“Of course you can,” I encouraged. “Now, let’s sit down and talk this out, you and me and some delicious, deep-fried carbs.”
He gave me a smile and picked up the powdered raspberry jelly donut I had left on his desk because I made it a habit of knowing his favorites.
Once he had settled himself behind his desk, I perched on one of the chairs across from him and picked up my abandoned notepad. “Did they say what they wanted to talk about?”
Unnaturally composed, Ronny shook his head. “No, but I think I have an idea. Considering the number of clients we keep losing to them, it wouldn’t surprise me if they walked in here with an offer. They might think we’re floundering and are open to being bought out.”
I hated to admit it, but there had been blood in the water surrounding Pace lately. The papers didn’t seem to have a lot of faith in us existing as an independent entity for more than a few more years, and potential parent companies had already started to circle.